


Best Friends With My Doubt

by quietcarnage



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Identity Reveal, Loss of Powers, M/M, Mystery, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Sick Peter Parker, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Twenty One Pilots Reference, Wade Wilson Loves Peter Parker, Wade Wilson Saves Peter Parker, and its not that exciting, but he isn't really, but its an accident, but not as complicated as, it's complicated - Freeform, miscommunication is the real enemy here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2020-12-27 18:44:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21123500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietcarnage/pseuds/quietcarnage
Summary: When the gruesome murders of low ranking criminals is pinned on Spider-Man and his powers disappear, Peter Parker goes on the run from both the law and almost every super in New York sent to hunt him down. He doesn't know what happened to his powers, who to trust, and he definitely doesn't expect to team up with the first guy sent to kill him, but beggars can't be choosers and he needs all the help he can get.Currently on a hiatus





	1. Chapter 1

Peter sprinted down the rain soaked New York streets, the water soaking right through the spandex and causing the suit to cling uncomfortably to his skin. He threw out a web as the sirens got closer, launching himself to a rooftop and rolling to lay flat as patrol cars whizzed down the street below him. The rain pelted the lenses on his mask uncomfortably as he heaved in several deep breaths and the adrenaline began to wear off. 

Just as he was about to take off again to somewhere more secure, his sensitive ears picked up on the whirring of a search helicopter hovering nearby. He couldn’t stay on the roof. Hell, any roof for that matter were off limits.

Staying as low as he could he slipped down the side of the building, disappearing into the darkness of the alleyway. He wished he had his civilian clothes, or any clothes really that weren’t his iconic red and blues painting a target on his back. He looked down to the suit, dark splotches staining his hands, lap and chest.

“Fuck.” he breathed.

If he was found, staying in the alleyway would be cornering himself in, he had to move.

The helicopter got closer, flying right over the alley he was currently crouched in, a searchlight passing dangerously close to his spot against the wall. The distinctive black and white logo on the side could only mean one thing: SHIELD. He cursed again, waiting until the chopper and sirens sounded far enough before sprinting into a desolate parking garage across the street.

In the distance, he could faintly hear the billboards in Times Square, a grumbling sneering voice calling for citizens of New York to keep their eyes peeled for ‘that webbed spider-menace!’ accompanied by emergency contact numbers for both the police and SHIELD.

Peter ran his hand over his face, pacing back and forth. If SHIELD was looking for him, then he wasn’t sure how much of a help the Avengers would be. Did Tony even believe him when he said he didn’t do it? “Fuck, fuck fucking fuck _fuck!_” He hissed, speed walking toward a window in hopes of finding a more secure hiding spot elsewhere. Maybe an abandoned building of some sort. A mall if he was lucky, he could grab some clothes and get out of the bloody suit. Literally. 

A glimpse around the surrounding area though, and no dice. He didn’t know what to do, or where to go. He couldn’t change, didn’t know if he could trust the Avengers, and couldn’t be out in the open or swinging either lest the public give him away. He couldn’t hide on the rooftops without helicopters finding him, and it wasn’t like he could run forever for a crime he _didn’t commit_.

He looked down at the bloodstained suit, frustrated, wanting nothing more than to just get out of it, while also knowing that he also had no choice but to wear it. He shivered, realizing how cold he was in the wet spandex. He rubbed his arms, sitting down in a corner of the garage, taking off his mask at the very least. The rain soaked mask against his face was beginning to make it difficult to breathe without also taking in a few drops of water as well. He tensed up as the sirens of two patrol cars zoomed past the garage before curling up and dropping his head into his knees, his fingers gripping his hair in frustration. He was just so damn tired.

Footsteps echoed as someone entered the garage. Peter froze, pushing himself further into the darkness of the corner of the garage, praying to whatever entity lay above that it was just a businessman there to pick up his car and leave. According to his hearing though, it was more than obvious that whoever had just walked in was anything but a civilian. They were heavyset. Muscular based on how weighted the footsteps were, and definitely carrying several weapons according to the clinks of metal that went off every time they took a step.

Weapons meant mercenary. An experienced one. Most likely from SHIELD. So probably a super.

In his state, he wouldn’t be anywhere near in good enough condition to take another super out in a fight. No, fighting wasn’t an option. He had to keep running.

Half of him didn’t even know what he was hiding for. Maybe if he just turned himself in and explained the situation, they would understand, and everyone could laugh about it another day. Or maybe they’d lock him up without any questions, reveal his identity, and play guinea pig with his enhanced body. He shivered again at the thought. He definitely did not want any of those, and to think that SHIELD would be anywhere close to merciful would be a joke good enough to crack a smile on even the Hulk’s angry green mug.

The footsteps stalked closer to his corner. Peter stood up up as slowly and quietly as he could, preparing to sneak out over the concrete ledge of the garage window before he could be spotted. Hopefully there would be bushes he could dive in on the other side, or he could even crawl up to the second floor. 

Maybe it was because his mind was racing with possible escape routes, or maybe he was just not observant enough, not paying enough attention to his spidey sense. In the next instance, he heard the click of a guns safety as the man stood a few yards behind him.

“Don’t move, Spidey. You’re a real slippery one you know, but catching you is gonna pay for a shiny new Deagle with enough left over to put some leftovers in my fridge. Put your hands up and turn around reeaal slow for me will ya?” 

Peter raised his hands slowly, turning to face the man. “Okay, okay just… don’t shoot .” He whispered. He wasn’t ready to get taken in, but he especially wasn’t ready to die either. Keeping his head low, he eyed the man sent to capture him. Or at least whatever he could see. 

He was wearing almost all red skintight leather with a splash of black here and there, and tons of pouches. The boots were also red, with shin bracers and a knife tucked into the side of one. He could see the ends of two swords peeking out from behind his back, as well as two guns strapped to his thighs, with the exception of one out of the holster being pointed directly at his bowed head.

“Don’t worry,” the man before his growled, “orders were to get you in alive, but there weren’t any exceptions to say just how alive, you feel me? Just behave and we won’t have a problem, baby boy.”

\----------------

“I know they say that science never sleeps, but this is a whole new low even for you, Pete.” Tony shook the kid, who startled awake from his spot on the lab counter. 

“Merry Christmas-” Peter sat up straight, knocking over a pad of paper and a few pens. His hair was mussed up on one side from sleeping on it, and he had a page of his notes stuck to his face and a few pens still sticking to his fingertips. 

Tony chuckled, unsticking the items from the young hero who yawned loudly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand as the pens fell off. “Sorry, Tony, must’ve fallen asleep here.” He glanced around the chaotic lab, then down at the project he’d been messing around with: a bot that could identify and pick up litter, then clean and recycle it into a usable material. It was just a small scale prototype for now, but he was determined to get it good enough to be used on the streets on a larger scale.

“Yeah no shit, how’s the bot going?” Tony leaned against the table, eyeing the rectangular shape. “It still thinks my sneakers are litter, and keeps trying to eat them.” Peter sighed, poking the machine with the eraser end of his pencil. “Let’s be real here, Peter, they are. Poor guy’s just doing its job, can you blame it?” Tony glanced down at the kids beat up Converse only to be jabbed with the eraser as well. “Hey, I like them.” Peter frowned. “Right, I’m gonna go ahead and add that to my contingency plan then: annihilate Parker’s shoes via litter-bot.”

Peter rolled his eyes. It was part of a dumb game they were playing while working in the lab together. They would try to come up with ways to take out every Avenger, just kind of bouncing ideas off of each other, seeing what would work and what wouldn’t. Sometimes it would be jokes like ‘sing Banner a lullaby until he falls asleep,’ or ‘switch out Thor's hammer with a rubber mallet’ which Tony said clearly wouldn’t work, until Peter added on a ‘painted the same colors.’ They had a good laugh over that one.

Other times it would be much more serious, like taking out Clint by threatening his family, webbing Sam’s wings shut, or using Bucky’s trigger words against him. “What if he plugs his ears?” Peter had asked, “uhhh… megaphone.” Tony threw out in the air. “A really big megaphone.” Peter corrected with a snap of his fingers. “Or, we could take off his arm. Is that weird?” Tony had suggested, spinning around in his chair, "I've got a _huge_ magnet." 

Peter huffed, picking up the shoebox sized robot. “The litter-bot doesn’t work yet. He can’t actually eat anything, he’s too small.” Tony tapped his chin in thought, “well, that’s because you haven’t let me take a crack at it yet.” Peter poked him with the eraser again. “Ow! Okay, well when it _does_ work, and I know it will because _you’re_ building it, then you and those nasty shoes better watch out.”

They had occasionally tossed up ideas on taking out each other, but those were oftentimes a lot less serious. Peter could definitely take Tony in a fight out of the suit, but he also pointed out that mentally, he didn’t think he’d be able to bring himself to do it. Tony in turn pointed out that all it took to take out Peter was a good science pun, which Peter agreed with after not being able to find a good comeback.

“Alright,” Tony clapped his hands loudly, pulling Peter from his thoughts, “Let's get out of this stuffy little hell hole and get you something decent to eat.” Peter only grinned in response, following Tony to the elevator leading up to the common room.

To the rest of the Avengers, he was still Tony’s ‘protege-slash-intern’ that he happened to be really attached to. Peter wanted to keep his secret identity from as many people as he could. It was just safer that way, so they just had to keep the internship cover, which oddly enough everyone just accepted without question. But hey, he wasn’t complaining.

It was sprinkling outside, and the dark clouds in the distance indicated a storm brewing, probably going to hit that night if not earlier. Peter sighed in resignation, knowing that Spider-Man was needed on the streets, raining or not. Especially with what had been going on… recently. He pursed his lips, making a mental note to find a way to waterproof his suit. The elevator dinged to a stop and opened its doors to the common room, where Natasha, Clint, Scott, and Sam sat around the TV all looking equally as grim.

“Why the long faces, boys?” Tony stepped into the room, guiding Peter out with an arm around his shoulder. “Try to look alive, my favorite Avenger’s here.” Peter slipped out from Tony’s arm, making a beeline for the fridge. “Nice try, Mr. Stark, but unless being a superhero comes with dental, I think I’m gonna have to pass.” Peter pulled a carton of milk from the fridge, setting it on the counter next to some Lucky Charms.

“Hey Peter,” Natasha smiled. “Sorry, there’s just been another uh really… gruesome murder in the city again.” Peter looked down at his cereal sadly. He knew. Well, Spider-Man knew. Someone was out in New York killing would-be-has-been criminals with their bare hands. Never any weapons. He’d find muggers, thieves, criminals that worked under bigger crime bosses and the likes all beaten to death. Faces were bruised beyond recognition, arms, legs, ribs, noses were broken. It was horrible, disgustingly grisly unwarranted vigilantism. The fact that there were no weapons involved made it ten times more difficult to find any sort of suspects, and as Spider-Man, he never heard any of the attacks as they were happening either. It was like those bodies just… appeared. “Oh, that’s… really horrible,” Peter simply said. He didn’t know how he was supposed to react to it as a civilian. “You think they’ll catch the guy behind it all?”

Sam shrugged, “They don’t really have any clue as to who’s behind it, but The Daily Bugle seems to suspect Spider-Man because of some surveillance footage showing a figure scaling the wall after the crime.”

“A what? Wait, people think _Spider-Man_ is doing the killing?” Peter nearly knocked over his cereal box in surprise. “Spider-Man never kills! Like ever! No matter what. Who- why would anyone think that he’s behind it? He’s a good guy.” Peter stumbled through his words. 

“Well, to be fair Peter, we don’t really know him. He’s a vigilante, and in some sort of twisted justice, this guy _is_ a wall crawler _only_ killing criminals.” Clint added grimly. “I’m sure Spidey thinks he means well, but he’s _killing_ people. Considering his super strength, an-”

“_If_ it’s Spidey.” Tony cut him off. “Look guys, I _know_ Spider-Man. He really is a good guy. It’s not him. Scouts honor. Spidey wouldn’t hurt a fly as ironic as that is.” Tony piped up, crossing his arms in defiance. Peter relaxed having Tony on his side. “Let’s talk about something else,” Peter suggested, wanting nothing more to do with the conversation and his alter ego's competence in catching the killer.

“Like the litter-bot you’ve been building?” Scott suggested with a smile, switching the TV to a different channel. Peter beamed, ecstatic that Scott had remembered his project. “Oh my gosh, yeah! It’s almost done, and I think it’s gonna work if I just tweak it’s identification specs just a bit so it stops eating shoes, but I really think this is gonna change the world.” Peter proudly exclaimed. “Okay, well, it doesn’t actually eat shoes, I think it might be just mine, but-”

“Peter.” Clint interrupted.

“Yeah?” 

“Your cereal.” 

“Aw, man,” Peter looked down to see the bowl tipped over, lucky charms and  
blood poured all over his suit as the man below him bled out. It was the first time a weapon had been used. The rain pelted down on his shoulders as he examined the knife. It was a standard kitchen knife, most likely taken from the cafe they were in the alley next to. The victim appeared to be one of the Kingpin’s goons based purely on how he was dressed. He swore under his breath, pushing his fingers into the victim’s neck, trying to find a pulse to no avail. 

Once again, the culprit had disappeared before he could reach the scene. He had heard it happen this time. He heard the man scream. He sat back on his heels in defeat, knowing that once again he failed to save someone, criminal or not. He punched the ground in frustration, causing a splash. He wasn’t sure if it was rain water or blood anymore, barely even noticing when the red and blue lights pulled up in the alleyway entrance behind him. 

“Spider-Man, put the knife down and get on the ground or I _will_ shoot! I repeat, put the knife down and get on the ground!”

_Oh fuck._

Peter put the knife down, putting his hands up. “I know how this looks, but I just got here too.” Peter started. “I’m so close to finding the killer, I know it. He messed up this time, see? He used a weapon. If we run the knife for prints, then mayb-” The officer fired his gun.

Peter sidestepped out of the way, hissing as the bullet hit his side. He’d have to assess the damage there later, but it didn’t feel too bad, so whatever. “I am so _sick_ of finding bodies every night, Spider-Man! This ends _now_!” He fired again and again, calling for backup on his radio.

Peter jumped from side to side, avoiding the rain of bullets until the clip ran out with a _click_. “I didn’t- Stop! I didn’t do it! You’ve got the wrong guy!” Peter ran towards the other end of the alley and out towards the street as more police sirens began to sound throughout the city.

_Fuck fuck fuck._

His cell phone rang from his pocket. Tony was calling. 

“Tony!” He answered, hiding between a fence and a dumpster as the sirens got closer. “Peter. SHIELD just put out an APB on Spider-Man. What the hell is going on, they’re saying you were caught stabbing someone.” 

“I didn’t- I swear I just found him like that. You know I would never-” Peter froze. He may have taken the tracking out of his suit ages ago, but his cell phone was definitely still traceable. Was Tony- Would he..? The Avengers technically worked under SHIELD. Peter ground his teeth, not wanting to take the risk. “You know me, Tony.” He whispered. 

“Peter-” He crushed the phone in his hand, grimacing as the glass screen and metal easily folded in on itself in his hand. He tossed the phone onto the wet pavement, giving it one last stomp for good measure. The phone splintered into shards of metal. He ran into the streets, his heart pounding as the police sirens filled the air. 

Someone had been killing _criminals_ with their bare hands. They didn’t use weapons, escaped by climbing walls, and _only_ attacked in Queens. In _his turf_. Someone had been setting him up. Someone wanted to pin the murders on Spider-Man. But who? Why? Peter wanted to sit down, take a breather, and really think about it, but a flash of red and blue lights behind him pulled him from his thoughts, reflecting on the brick walls and bouncing off the rain pouring down around him.

He had no time to think about the current shitshow going on. All he could do now was run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it!  
I just wanted to throw in that the title, summary, and tags will probably be going through a ton of renovating within the next few days just because I'm not 100% set on what I've got up there.  
Let me know what you think so far though, feel free to drop a comment!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Deadpool raises some eyebrows and Peter is sufficiently Not Okay™

Peter shook in his place. Whether that was due to the cold, fear, exhaustion, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t understand how his life had taken a 180 so fast in a matter of hours, but here he was, staring down at the ground with his hands in the air at gunpoint. For the second time that night. A breeze swept through the garage, causing him to shiver even more violently, his teeth chattering as the wind made his water soaked suit even colder. He felt weak and helpless, unable to do anything but shake while the mercenary drew closer, tucking the gun back into his holster, switching it out for a sword - no, katana - instead.

“Where’s your mask?” He bent his knees a bit to level himself with Peter’s face. He immediately shot a hand to his face, almost forgetting that he had taken his mask off earlier due to how hard it had been getting to breathe. “Oh my god. Oh shit, my mask.” Peter paled at the realization that the merc in front of him, the one that _worked for SHIELD_ could possibly identify him if he got a look at his face. 

He covered his face with both his hands, ducking down even lower. “Please don’t look. Oh, fuck. Please just let me get my mask back on. I won’t try anything I swear.” The merc backed off suddenly, surprised before carefully responding. “You didn’t seem to be too concerned about your identity when you merc’d those baddies. Seriously, if you’re gonna kill someone, at least don’t make it obvious that you did it.” 

Peter groaned in frustration. “But that’s the thing, I didn’t do it! I think I was set up, or- or something. I don’t know!” He covered his face with one hand as he webbed his mask with the other one, slipping it over his head as fast as he could. “Yeah, sure, and I’m actually Ryan Reynolds- hey! Keep those hands up.”

The wet and cold spandex once again clinging to his skin made him feel gross and cold, but a little discomfort was better than putting his friends and family in the line of fire should anyone want information out of them. He sneezed as a cold shiver ran over his whole body. “S-sorry. Excuse me.” He rubbed his nose through the mask, feeling completely miserable, not to mention incredibly cold and tired on top of that. He got down on his knees, giving himself some semblance of a break, keeping his hands up to show that he wasn’t trying anything. 

To be blunt, everything sucked.

The merc was silent for a while, watching him before sighing loudly, putting his katana away and grabbing a jacket off of the hood of a nearby car. He walked forward, grumbling something along the lines of “damn fucking morals” while draping the dark green jacket over Peter’s shoulders. It was still warm, like it had only just been worn mere moments ago. “I still gotta bring you in, but contrary to popular belief, I’m not actually a complete monster. Come on.” 

Peter looked down, the jacket was similar to a bomber jacket, short, with zippers crossing all over the article with a layer of mesh on the shoulders seemingly more for fashion than any actual use. It was quite cozy though. “Where did you even-” he started to ask, only to get interrupted. “Unlike you, _I_ am not an idiot. It’s raining outside. Do I look like I’m trying to catch a cold? Well, not that I could. Yay super healing!” He responded bluntly.

Peter only kneeled there in stunned silence before being gruffly being dragged to his feet in the mercs muscular grip. He yelped as a sharp pain twisted at his side. “Come on, you look like a kicked puppy. Don’t make this shit any harder. Let’s just get this over with. Daddy needs to get paid, and _you_ are currently SHIELD’s most wanted cash cow” Peter pulled the side of the jacket, looking down at his suit, stained with the blood of the dead criminal. It was looking a lot more red than earlier. A glance to his side and he could see why. 

The gunshot from earlier hadn’t just grazed his waist like he initially thought, it had gone through it. The cold and adrenaline must have been keeping the feeling at bay, but now that he’s warmed up, he was definitely feeling the full force of the injury. It explained why he was shaking so damn much at the very least. 

Blood loss. Huh.

The strangest part however, was the fact that it hadn’t closed up yet. He wasn’t Wolverine or anything, but his enhanced healing should have at least somewhat stopped the bleeding by now. Somehow, it was still dripping like a slightly loose faucet. Something wasn’t right. The more he stared at it, the more panic started to set in and the more real it began to feel. He was literally bleeding out. He was bleeding out and he wasn’t healing. This had never happened before. He could potentially die.

Something was seriously wrong about the whole situation. The murders, the bullet wound, the fact that he was getting sick on top of it all. Oh god, the blood. There was so much of it. There was too much of everything. “Holy shi-” Peter began, his vision starting to darken on the edges. He felt himself falling forward, as the parking garage seemed to spin, and the ground suddenly got a lot closer to his face.

\----------------

“Thor? He’s like, a god. He’d definitely kick our collective asses to Asgard and back.” Peter asked, tucking a pencil behind his ear as he blew the eraser shavings off some new blueprints.

Tony snorted, setting the collar he was working on down in disbelief. “God or not, I know I can definitely take him in a tussle. Funnily enough, I’ve actually got some armor I’ve been building to absorb electricity and recycle it as an energy source for my repulsors. But uh, otherwise, all we have to do is get him away from Mjolnir. Dude’s a baby without the thing, he’s so dependant on it . So weird. I’m pretty sure he sings it to sleep.”

Peter hummed, not wanting to vocally agree in case the man himself was somehow listening in. “What about Daredevil? Do you know who that is? He’s super cool. I met him a couple times on patrol.” He stretched out his back, tired after sitting for so long, bent over in concentration. “Yeah, Red from Hell's Kitchen, I know him. Why don’t you tell me what you think first.” 

“I mean he’s blind, so it can’t be that hard to sneak up on him. Especially if we’re already friends. He won’t see it coming.” Peter mused. “Won’t see it coming? Blind joke? Really, Pete?” Tony laughed from his seat across the lab. 

“That was unintentional, I swear.” He stood up, waving his arms in front of him trying to shush the older man. Tony simmered down, settling into a contented sigh. “Daredevil’s a lot easier than Thor though. Great hearing or not, he’s still human. A well aimed gunshot should do the trick.”

“What about me?” Peter suddenly asked.

“Kid, I’d wipe the floor with you.”

“Nuh uh. I could totally hold my own against you. My spidey sense is always one step ahead.”

“Unless we apply Daredevil rules here.” Tony shrugged, turning back to his government funded project. It was some collar that would help prison guards keep mutants powers suppressed. Peter was excited for Tony to finish it, seeing as it would mean that powered up criminals could finally be properly apprehended and serve actual jail time. He’d seen too many killed when officers believed they had no other choice. This was a chance to truly put an end to the needless use of excessive force.

“Daredevil rules?” Peter asked, turning his attention back to his mentor. 

“Yup. Friendship. You’d never see me coming.”

\----------------

Peter knew when he passed out that he would be captured. He didn’t know what to expect when he awoke though. A SHIELD operating table? A jail cell, maybe with the Juggernaut chilling on the top bunk? A comfy looking bedroom bundled under blankets though? That was nowhere near the top of the list. He sat up, grimacing at the pain in his side. The bullet wound _still_ hadn’t closed up at all, but it was definitely feeling a lot better than it did the last time he was conscious. He prodded at it a couple times, testing it. Yup. It still hurt like a bitch, but it wasn’t bleeding out anymore, so he’d take the win where he could get it. His head on the other hand was a whole different story. It was like a mixture between feeling too hot, too cold, and like he wanted to throw up all at once.

He had no idea what happened to his enhanced healing, but the fact that it wasn’t working was definitely not a good sign. The sound of footsteps padding softly down the hall caught his attention, his heart hammering in his chest as the steps drew closer. He lay back down as quietly as he could, closing his eyes and leveling his breathing to feign sleep as the door handle jiggled open. The merc from the parking garage entered, holding a tray of something that smelled absolutely savory.

He stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him before speaking. “I know you’re awake,” He started lowly. Peter kept his eyes closed, but took in a deep breath. “How did you know?” 

The merc, jumped, the contents on the tray nearly spilling in surprise. Peter’s eyes flew open, as he exclaimed a “Holy shit you’re actually up what the _fuck_!” The merc was still in full suit, clutching a tray in one hand and his heart in the other, breathing heavily as Peter tried to sit up again. “I was just saying that to sound cool in case you actually were up, but I stopped expecting anything after the first three or four tries.” Peter groaned, almost forgetting the wound in his side. “Sorry, but where am I? Who are you? Where- where are my clothes.” He asked the last line flatly, glancing down at his bare chest, save for the bandages wrapped around his torso and the green jacket from before.

“You, baby boy, are in casa de Deadpool!” He stood up, throwing his arms out dramatically. Peter palmed at his face with one hand, relieved that his mask was still on. He struggled to sit up, using the headboard to brace himself. “Okay, Deadpool, dónde está mi maldita ropa, asshole.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you just said there.” he laughed, “But uh, I had to treat that nasty wound of yours, baby boy. Not to worry though, I was a good Deadpool. Strictly business, swearsies.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, handing Peter a mug of warm water, which Peter downed gratefully after peeling the bottom of his mask up over his nose. “Wait, so… you didn’t turn me in? You helped me? Why?” he turned his head in confusion, tensing as Deadpool sat himself on the bed.

“I… well, at first I thought the blood on your suit was from whoever you just merc’d, but then you kept bleeding, and then you like, fainted, and you were shivering, and you weren’t healing, and I thought to myself ‘huh, that’s weird, shouldn’t you _not_ be able to get sick? Y’know, since you’re Spider-Man? Where’d your powers go’,” He looked away, grumbling to himself again about morals, “I don’t know, I couldn’t bring myself to bring you to SHIELD while you were bleeding to death on the floor of a dusty parking garage. As much as I would have loved some good cash in my pockets, it just didn’t _feel_ right. Deep in my gut. I had to get you somewhere to sort your head out before like, the Avengers found you or something. I just figured that if you turned out to be bad after all I’d just hand you in no harm no foul.” 

Peter blinked, coughing a few times, taking in the sheer amount of word vomit that he was just assaulted with. “I… thanks? I think. Wait what do you mean the Avengers?”

Deadpool set the cup down on a nearby table, “Yikes. I mean, SHIELD may have hired me directly to catch ya, but according to the news, all supers are supposed to be on the lookout for you, Spidey babe.”

Peter coughed some more, gradually getting more and more violent each time. Deadpool stood up abruptly. “Holy shit, are you okay?” He rubbed Peter’s back as he continued to cough. “No I’m not okay!” He snapped between coughs. “I’m being framed for _murder_. I’m on the run from the law. I’m hiding in a mercenary’s house because _everyone else_ is out to get me and I don’t know who’s even on my side! And to top it all off, I haven’t gotten sick in years, but here I am hacking my lungs up.” He winced in pain as each cough caused his side to contract painfully. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with my body, with my life, and I don’t know what to do. Hell, I don’t even know if I can trust you!” Peter gripped the empty glass in his hand tightly.

After straining a bit, the glass finally shattered into pieces. He hissed as the glass cut up his palm. “Fucking, _ugh_!” Peter shook as another fit of coughs took over his body. “I barely even have my super strength. What the hell!”

“Hey, take it easy, Webs.” Deadpool scooped up the broken glass, tossing it in a nearby bin that was overflowing with used tissues. Peter frowned, remembering where he was, and who he was with. “What do you care? For all I know, you’re just gonna turn me into SHIELD for a payout anyways.” He huffed out. 

Deadpool sat back on the bed, wrapping the blanket over Peter’s shoulders and examining his now cut up hand. “I- well, no actually. You’re right, this is all really weird. SHIELD never hires me directly.” He noted. Peter glanced down, staring at the gun holstered on Deadpool’s thigh uneasily. After a long pause, Deadpool sighed “I don’t know. This has never happened before. My jobs don’t normally end with my targets sick in my bed while I feed them chicken noodle soup and tend to their wounds.” At that point, Peter felt another coughing fit bubbling up in his lungs.

He curled up, coughing into the pillow he had clutched in his arms, feeling incredibly dizzy. “Wait, you brought me soup? Uh, I mean, what’s your point, Deadpool?” He slurred out, wiping the corner of his lips. “Yeah, here, you want some?” He grabbed the bowl of warm soup off the tray and scooping a spoonful of it to feed him, which Peter ate without question. He wasn’t going to turn down free comfort food if it was given to him. “Anyways, my point is that the council of heroic babysitters is acting a lot more sus than you are, webhead. And I’m about to go full Pepe Silvia on this bitch. Tell me, when did your powers disappear.” Deadpool asked, setting the bowl down to stand up and face a nearby wall, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

Peter frowned, wracking his brain. Sure, he was indulging the merc’s craziness a bit, but what did he have to lose? The last time he remembered using his powers was when he used his enhanced senses to hear the stabbing from the other side of the city. He had also used them to pick up on the helicopters, but they had already been close by that point, so his powers were probably already fading by that point. “Uh, after I got shot, I think. I definitely had them before I got shot.” 

“Then all we gotta do is find out who shot you. Because my common sense tells me it wasn’t a regular bullet” Deadpool mused, scribbling something down on a piece of paper before stabbing it into the wall with a thumbtack. 

“Who shot Spidey?”

“This is dumb,” Peter got up, wincing at the wound in his side as he walked over to where Deadpool stood. “But we should probably start with the NYPD. Find out who the officer was, why he shot me, what the bullet was, who he works for,” Peter crossed his arms, “and hopefully we can get it all wrapped up before dinner.” 

Deadpool gasped dramatically. “Is this what I think it is?” Despite having a mask on, Peter could tell he was grinning based on the way the leather of the mask stretched over his mouth. “Oh god”

“Oh yeah.”

“Don’t call it a-”

“This is a team up!”

“Goddamn it.” Peter rubbed his temple. What had he gotten himself into?

Deadpool spun to his closet, gracefully throwing open the doors to reveal piles and piles of unorganized weapons. Peter was pretty sure that it was some sort of safety hazard, but opted to keep his mouth shut and not judge the potentially trigger happy antihero. “What do you prefer, Webs? Are you a shotgun or a hunting knife guy?” He asked, tossing an array of guns and unsheathed knives onto the floor behind him. 

“Wait what?! No! I can’t just show up at the police department with a _gun_ and demand they tell me who the officer that shot me was, are you insane?” Deadpool turned, opening his mouth, “You know what, don't answer that,” Peter interrupted, “they already think I’m a killer, showing up like this isn’t gonna help me at all.”

“You’re right. And definitely a lot smarter than I look. You can stay here, and _I’ll_ go get us some answers.” He suggested, shoving handfuls of loose ammo into his pouches. “I’m _very_ convincing.”

“No, I can’t stay here. This is my problem, I gotta be the one there to figure this out. And I’m also not gonna let you shoot anyone.” Peter crossed his arms disapprovingly at the sheer amount of weapons being piled into a backpack.

Deadpool stopped packing and stared at him harshly. “Be real here, Webs. You’re hurt, your spider-juice isn’t workin’ and going anywhere out in public is only gonna get you a one way ticket to super-time-out faster than you can say ‘not guilty, your honor!’”

“Only if they recognize me.” Peter snapped his fingers.

“No offense, but I think they’re still gonna recognize your mask, even _if_ you’re only in your undies and a coat. It is very stripper-esque though. You could pass for being on your way to a themed bachelorette party.” He suggested, blatantly checking out Peter’s exposed chest and thighs. He suddenly felt very naked under Deadpool’s eye and tugged a nearby blanket over his shoulders. “That wasn’t what I meant at all. I was thinking of maybe a new disguise.” 

“Like a stripper.” Deadpool suggested, Peter flushing red, “I’m not gonna be a stripper!” He sat back down on the bed, wincing as the wound bit uncomfortably at the impact. Deadpool shrugged, tossing a few more guns into an open Hello Kitty backpack, “like I said, you’re hurt and should be resting anyways. My stitching is pretty great, but I can’t have you tearing it open just because you’re an idiot. So you,” he put a hand to Peter’s chest with little to no effort at all, pushing him gently back on the bed, “be a good boy, and stay put while daddy gets some answers.”

Peter huffed, knowing full well that he didn’t have the strength to retaliate or fight the merc on it. Not while he was there anyways. 

Deadpool nodded approvingly when Peter didn’t get back up or try to fight him on it. “Good. I’ll be fast. Here’s one of my burners. Call me if you need anything. Some food, company, a big spoon,” he winked, “I gotchu.”

And just like that, he was out the door.

He did leave his backpack full of guns behind though, which Peter was ever so slightly grateful for. The less bloodshed, the better.

He got up, peering down the apartment window, as Deadpool got into a waiting yellow taxi, which proceeded to drive off before the car door fully closed. As soon as it turned the corner out of sight though, Peter snapped the blinds shut, yanking his Spider-Man mask off and tossing it haphazardly into the gun closet.

With Spidey being hunted, he needed a new disguise, and who better to hide as than Peter Parker himself? As far as everyone but his closest friends and family knew, Peter Parker and Spider-Man had no correlation. He could begin his own corner of investigation uninhibited. Unfortunately as comfy as he was in his own skin, he still needed clothes. He figured New York would appreciate it if he didn’t wander the streets in nothing but his birthday suit.

Rummaging through Deadpool’s dresser, he found mostly hoodies, sweatpants, and a ton of long sleeved shirts. None of which were anything near his size. In the end, he settled for the smallest t-shirt that he could find (still a couple sizes too big), as well as some basketball shorts that went down to his knees. Checking himself out in the cracked bathroom mirror, he got the impression of a young tweaker. Definitely suspicious. Slipping the green jacket from before over the t-shirt made it a little better, but not by much. It’d have to do. He could worry about clothes and appearances later. For now, he had what he needed to get started on getting answers.

Deadpool had the police station covered, but Peter knew he still needed to figure out what the deal was with his powers. Particularly why they weren’t working. First, he’d need to examine a sample of his blood and then probably compare it to his mutie blood, just to be sure it was really gone before jumping to a firm conclusion. From there, he’d be able to easily break down any chemicals in the blood to determine what had caused his powers to go AWOL. The only problem, was that the only sample he had of his mutated blood was in Tony’s lab. At the compound. 

The Avengers definitely won’t question Peter Parker wandering the building, but Tony… Peter took in a deep breath. He really hoped Tony would believe him, take his side. But if he didn’t, Peter was about to be in a whole lot of trouble.

The thought of Tony being against him made him more and more nervous. He was in no state to be fighting the Avengers right now and if Tony was there, worst case scenario, his identity could be compromised on top of it all. It was a hell of a gamble, but his options were to either get this over with and get some answers, or hide forever. 

Peter presented it in his mind as a choice, but he knew as soon as he took off the mask exactly what his answer would be.

Slipping on some blue crocs he found tucked away in a corner, he glanced at the bag Deadpool had forgotten. The Hello Kitty backpack that had been crammed full of firearms, was just sitting there, tauntingly. Peter shook his head, tugging the bedroom door closed behind him and walking out of the apartment. He wasn’t Deadpool. He didn’t threaten people with guns, he didn’t kill, and he most certainly was not about to do either of those to the Avengers as Intern Peter Parker™ 

Besides, he figured that if everything went to shit, he could easily take care of himself without a problem. He’s beaten several of them easily in one-on-one training sessions before, His spidey sense was nearly impossible to beat, putting him one step ahead of them at all times. He would be fine.

Or so he thought, nearly forgetting the whole purpose of his trip to the compound entirely.

He was given a painful reminder that being capable was in fact no longer the case when he found himself tripping on a wet floor sign on the side of the empty hallway, sending him careening to the ground, landing his bad side. Peter gasped in pain as he felt his stitches tugging on impact, prompting yet another coughing fit that made him glad he brought a jacket. Without his spidey sense, or his enhanced eyesight for that matter, he was just as clumsy as he was pre-bite. He whimpered, sitting up against a wall to catch his breath for a bit and huffing, realizing the floor wasn’t even wet.

As soon as the pain dulled enough for him to stand, he did, begrudgingly. The good news was that no one had been around to see that. The bad news was that Peter now realized that he no longer possessed the ability to fight the Avengers should things go south. Like at all.

Five minutes later, Peter was back in the bedroom, slinging the Hello Kitty backpack over his shoulder and pulling his phone out to check for the fastest bus route upstate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly longer but slower chapter. Sorry about the speed, I just gotta make sure things are established where I want them to be. My poor boy Pete's gonna be going through some rough shit next chapter, so enjoy this mild hurt/comfort while it lasted.


	3. Chapter 3

“Alright kid, hold onto your underoos because shit’s about to get weird.” Tony rolled his chair backwards, throwing his hands to the side in triumph. 

Peter peered over Tony’s shoulder at the smooth collar sitting like a pearl in the center of the chaotic work table. “Oooooh, how does it work?” He reached a hand out towards it curiously, only for his mentor to bat it away. “Nuh uh! Not without gloves. It’s made up of a duplicate of some substance Danvers picked up from planet fuck-where Shit was _covered_ in aglium. You can’t find it anywhere else. All I can say is, she no longer owes me any favors.” Tony mused. “Anyways, if you wear it, it’ll dampen your ability to consciously use your powers. It’ll make capturing future supervillains a hell of a lot easier, and luckily for me, I’ve got some guys over at the Ice Box who are willing to give this baby a test run on some of their mutant inmates.”

“So cool,” Peter grinned. 

\----------------

He coughed into his hands, feeling horrid. New York weather could be so unforgiving, especially with how late it was now. Getting up to the compound without swinging there wasn’t exactly fast or easy. Looking down into his palms, the splotch of red in his phlegm was definitely concerning, but not as concerning as breaking into the compound for his old blood samples. A visit to the doctors could wait. Probably. He wiped his bloody hands on his shorts, rubbed his eyes, and punched in the code that opened the employee access gate.

Slipping inside the large glass doors as quietly as he could, he could feel his body warm up immediately. The lack of alarms seemed to be a good sign. The tall staircases and even taller ceilings had always made it incredibly easy for Peter to hear every echoing sound made in the building, but without his enhanced hearing it was eerily silent. Making a beeline for the lab elevator, he crossed his fingers, hoping for a quick in and out. No one needed to know he had been there at- “Peter?”

Naturally.

Before his finger could push the call elevator button, Steve, Wanda, and Clint had managed to sneak up on him, which, given the lack of spidey-sense he should have expected. It didn’t stop him from shrieking and nearly jumping out of his own skin, though. 

He turned around slowly with a wave, facing a very concerned looking group of supers dressed in sweats. Probably just wrapped up training. “Uh, hey guys, what’s up?” Despite his efforts to sound as nonchalant as possible, the crack in his voice definitely didn’t do him any favors. Clint opened his mouth, gesturing to Peter’s backpack, only for Wanda to cut him off before he could get a word out. “You look horrible. We weren’t even sure if you were even, well you.” Steve nodded in agreement, his lips pursed. “Have you been getting enough sleep, son? You look like… well-” 

“You look like a junkie going through withdrawal.” Clint deadpanned, earning him looks of heavy disapproval from the other two. “What? _Someone_ had to say it.”

Peter eyed the nearest window to check out his reflection which, well, yeah. Between the oversized clothes, bloodshot eyes, red nose, ghostly pale skin, and his poor posture… it looked pretty bad. “I uh, sorry. I’m just sick.” Peter shrugged. “And you’re coming to work?” Steve asked slowly, eyeing the clothes, the crocs, then back to his face. 

“Yup.” Peter popped the ‘p’ and nodded, biting his bottom lip, not knowing what else to say. The silence hung in the air a bit awkwardly, only for Wanda to break it with yet another point he was nervous to talk about. Not that he wasn’t already nervous, he just hadn’t thought up a story yet. “What’s with the clothes?” She gestured up and down his body. These three were so judging him. “They’re my uh… f-friends…?” He supposed he and Deadpool were friends now, in whatever twisted, convoluted way that made sense. The merc had only tried to kill him once, so he’d say they were pretty close. “Mine, um, got ruined ‘n stuff, and I had to get to work, y’know? I don’t really want Tony to be disappointed if I’m late or something. So I just popped on some of his and um… Yeah.” He trailed off into a cough, nodding and rocking back on his heels. He kept his eyes on the ground, knowing that if he were to look up and face the Avengers before him now, they would just know.

“Is that your jacket, then? It’s really nice.” Wanda asked nervously, offering a small smile. She seemed like she was still trying to salvage what was left of the conversation, but also like she was unsure if she even wanted to know. Peter looked down, pulling at the soft green fabric. “Oh uh, no it’s um… it’s his too. It was just really cold out, and he um-” Peter’s words were cut off by a series of coughs and wheezes. His head spun as he shook it clear, ignoring the red splatter now sinking into the elbow of his - er, Deadpool's - jacket.

Steve stepped forward, putting his hand firmly on Peter’s shoulder, forcing him to finally look the super soldier in the eye. “Hey, Pete, listen. I just want you to know that Tony isn’t gonna be _that_ upset if you’re a little late. But if your ‘friend’ - if _anyone_ is hurting you - I want you to let us know.” He gave Peter a knowing look. 

Peter felt his face flush red at the implication “O-oh no it’s nothing like that, l- thanks Cap. I’m um. I think I’m good though.” He smiled, pushing the elevator button behind him a few times in an attempt to flee the scene. He was _so_ not ready to have a heart to heart with Captain America about abusive boyfriends, and the sweat building up around his forehead was not helping his case at all.

Peter pushed the elevator button a few more times again with more urgency as Steve went on about ‘having a word with Tony about giving employees sick leave’. Now that was a name that definitely caught his attention. He whirled around to face them again, “w-wait, where’s Tony?” Peter asked, the panic in his voice evident. Clint put his hands out to calm him down, “He’s away at SHIELD HQ. He’s talking to them about the uh, Spider-Man problem. He’s not here to chew you out or anything, kid, take it easy.” 

Shitshitshit.

“Oh, okay, um I gotta go to work. Thanks for the concern guys but I gotta go okay bye.” He practically sprinted into the elevator as it slid open, mashing the close door button to Clint saying something along the lines of ‘are we seriously gonna ignore that backpack? _Those shoes?_’

He was running out of time. If Tony was talking to SHIELD about _Spider-Man_, it was only a matter of time before they were knocking down doors searching for _Peter Parker_. He needed to catch the real culprit before that could happen, or who knew what could happen to his friends and family. The ones that knew. The ones that _he_ was putting in danger just by purely existing at all. He didn’t want to even think about it. All he could do right now was figure out what he was shot with and pray that it links back to whoever’s framing him

When the doors slid open a second time, it was to a crisp looking lab. He was out like a bolt of lightning, dropping the backpack by the wall near his personal desk, and pulling out a microscope, tearing open the fridge for his mutie blood samples. He glanced around the room nervously before tugging on some safety goggles and peering into the scope, anxious to get started. 

He held the machine with one hand, twisting the dial as the mutated cells came in and out of focus while his other hand furiously scribbled down notes. He figured he’d just decipher them later. What was important now was that he got a good eyeful of the mutated cells beneath the lenses. Once he figured he had enough to make a tangible conclusion, he got to work on the second half: his current blood. 

Being in an engineers lab, it was more than obvious that Tony didn’t possess any syringes, or other standard blood drawing methods. Which meant he just had to get it the old fashioned way. 

Peter took a deep breath and grabbed a nearby boxcutter off of a messy table, scattered with papers, tools, and what looked like an Iron Man leg piece. It reminded him of all the late nights he and Tony used to mutually suffer together. They would make immeasurable messes, shifting stuff from table to table all while making excuses about ‘dealing with it later’. The fond memories brought an honest smile to Peters face, only to get wiped right off by yet another coughing fit, brutally reminding him that those days were gone. Hopefully temporarily.

Dabbing at his sweating forehead with the back of his hand, he mentally prepared himself to retrieve the sample. Gently pressing the boxcutter into the center of his palm, he clenched his eyes in anticipation before quickly pressing down and dragging. He hissed in pain, realizing he probably cut just a bit too deep there as a steady trickle of blood began to flow from his palm. He raced to contain it in an empty beaker. It was going to be much more than he needed, but he figured he might as well keep and freeze it to study later if needed.

Who was he kidding, he screwed up and was just trying his hardest to justify having excess blood.

He pulled open a drawer from the lab table, taking out Tony’s first aid kit. He wrapped some gauze around his palm after dribbling some blood onto a slide to place under the microscope. A glance at a nearby clock told him it was already nearing midnight. Peter blinked slowly, staring at the time. It had only felt like an hour at the most, but the truth was he had been there all day. It wasn’t like he planned on being down there so long, but he couldn’t rush the observations, and he honestly had been going as fast as he could.

Or maybe he was just so used to losing time in his favorite place in the world that it was just second nature to him. His own little personal Disneyland. Either way, he figured he should probably stop wasting even more time, and got back to work. Bending over the tabletop to peer into the microscope, he huffed in frustration at the realization that it had lost focus _again_. He could barely pick up what looked like silver flecks, but it just wasn’t clear enough. Twisting the focus dial back and forth, he almost didn’t hear the lab doors swish open, nor the soft clacks of expensive shoes on tile.

“Really, Pete? Crocs?” a familiar drawl rolled from behind him. Peter jumped, nearly spilling the beaker full of blood in his panic. Clearly he was never going to get used to being scared. He swiveled around, coming face to face with the one and only Tony Stark. After a definitely audible gulp, Peter calmed his breath, not wanting to give away how nervous he truly was before he answered. “Anything’s better than going barefoot. Or naked. Since I obviously didn’t have anything besides my suit.” He shrugged, feigning confidence. 

His mentor was wearing his I’m-disappointed-in-you expression, a frown turning the sides of his lips downwards as he studied Peter before him. “Where have you been? The whole of New York is out looking for you, hell I am out there busting my ass looking for you. Only to get a call from Steve. _Steve_. Chastising me about what, forcing my employees to work when they’re ill?”

Peter kept his head turned to the side, not wanting to face the man, or the blinding lights above them. They were just too bright, so much to the point where his head was pounding. He kept his mouth shut in a tense line, biting the bottom lip to stop another cough from forcing its way out. “Come on, we can sort this whole mess out right now. Let’s just head down to SHIELD and get your name cleared. You were here at the compound when the attack with the video footage happened, and everyone on the team has pictures to prove it” Tony tried sympathetically, resting a hand on his mentees’ shoulder. 

Peter snapped his head to attention in shock, unsure if he had heard correctly. “That- that would mean I have to give up my identity, are you serious?” Tony looked down in confusion, or maybe shock, “No, no I’m not gonna let that happen I promise. You have witnesses, they don’t have to get a good look at the photos, we just gotta show them that you were here.”

“But if we wanna use the team as witnesses, then _that_ means that the team would know my identity. That can’t happen, just- I gotta figure this out on my own. I’m not asking for help, I’m just asking that you stay out of my way.” He turned back around to face the microscope.

“Figure this out on your own how? The team here knowing is better than the whole world, which is exactly what’s gonna happen if they catch you!” Tony stepped forward, turning Peter’s shoulder so he faced him again. He glanced around the lab quickly before dropping his voice to a hushed whisper. “Pete, when I said everyone’s looking for you, I really do mean _everyone_. SHIELD is _really_ insistent that we bring Spider-Man in. Hell, they sent the same message to the Fantastic Four. The _X-Men_. The smartest move right now is to outright prove to them that you’re innocent. I’m probably the only one who can be and _is_ on your side here. One hundred percent. Don’t shut me out here, please.”

Peter rubbed his temple with one hand. If he was being completely honest, that had been a lot of words, and his headache had been making it impossible to focus on literally anything Tony had just said. Something about everyone being after him and proving his innocence. Well, he was already working on that. “I got shot that night. It uh, left a trace. If I can figure out what was in the bullet, I can figure out who made it, and if I can figure out who made it, I’ll have a suspect.” Peter nodded, gesturing vaguely at his notes on the table. “And you’re not the only one trying to help me.”

“Wha- what are you talking about… Peter are you okay? What do you mean a trace?” Tony knelt down a bit to get a better look at Peter’s face. “You look… well, I’d say sick, but I know that you don’t exactly _get_ that.”

It occurred to him then, that Tony still had absolutely no idea that he had lost his powers at all. And it had to stay that way unless he wanted every hero and villain in New York finding out he was vulnerable. “It’s nothing. I gotta go.” He turned back to the table, gathering his notes together before walking to the backpack leaning against the wall across the room. 

“No. No, you’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on. What are you hiding?” He started to follow Peter, “Come on, it’s _me_. You know you can trust-”

Tony threw his hands up, taking a cautious step back as Peter spun around at the same time, pointing his webshooters at him threateningly. “No armor. Back up. You don’t want to do this, you know I can take you out.” Peter squinted his eyes in a way that could be seen as threatening. Truthfully, he was just having a hard time focusing on the hazy shape of his mentor swaying closer.

Tony ignored him, taking a tentative step forward, his hands out in mock surrender. “Where have you been? Why are your eyes so red? You’ve been coughing non stop this entire meeting. Listen, when I say I’m worried about you, I’m serious. I really am trying to help you, kid. It’s me. You know I would never hurt you and if your pow-”

Peter shot, aiming for Tony’s mouth to shut him up. He didn’t think he was ready to listen to his mentor figure it all out. Only for the web to go soaring way off the mark to his right, sticking to a metallic cabinet behind him with a dull thud. 

“Th-that was a warning shot.” Peter stuttered, scrambling for an excuse. 

“What happened to your powers, Peter?”

That was it. The only thing he could hope for now was a head start. He dropped to the ground, unzipping the backpack and stuffing his notes in as fast as he could, only for one of Deadpool’s guns to slip out in his panic, hitting the ground with a clack. Peter’s eyes went wide, and a glance up showed him that Tony was wearing the same expression. Part of him wanted to grab the gun, use it to threaten his way out, while the other part was already scrambling for an explanation as to why he had a gun - scratch that - several guns in his backpack. Which were now spilling out of the side and spilling ammo out all over the floor. The decision however was made for him as he found himself getting slammed into the ground by Tony tackling him, kicking the gun away at the same time. Peter squirmed under the heavy weight of the older man, trying to relieve some pressure off his wounded side. “Are you insane why the fuck do you have a _gun_?!” Tony practically roared in his ear. “I-it’s not mine it’s-” In his thrashing, his leg connected with the bag, knocking it over and spilling paper, loose bullets, and _several_ more guns all over the shiny lab floor. 

Maybe the backpack was a bad idea after all. It seemed like the logical way to go about protecting himself back in the apartment, but it hadn’t occurred to him that he might not actually be able to bring himself to use one.

There was a beat of silence between the two of them. Tony looking down at the spilled contents, then back at Peter below him, squinting. “Peter would never- Alright, new question,” Tony lifted Peter’s head up by the hair, hissing, “who the _fuck_ are you and why the _fuck_ are you killing people wearing my kid’s face.”

Peter whimpered below him, the position of Tony’s knee digging painfully into his stitches. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, his mouth gaping, but words refusing to come out. “Not talking, huh? Fine, we’ll find out soon enough. I swear to god if you’re Quentin I’m gonna murder you myself” He grabbed a collar off of the closest table, wrapping it securely around Peter’s neck with a click. He sat there, legs still straddling the younger man, and waited.

After about a minute, the anger and rage on Tony’s face melted into confusion as Peter continued to lay there, gasping for breath and coughing, nothing else really happening. Peter reached up, putting one hand on Tony’s chest, and the other on the knee digging into his stitches. He had a hard time forcing the words out of his mouth, but managed a half whisper to his mentor. “Get off of me.”

Tony’s face paled as he saw the line of red trickling down the corner of Peter’s mouth. _Peter’s_ mouth. It wasn’t an illusion. The realization of what he had just done hitting him full force in the chest. “Oh my god,” he whispered, moving off next to Peter and pulling him upright into a sitting position. “Oh fuck oh shit, I’m so sorry. It’s just, the guns, the lack of powers, the sickness, the weird oversized clothes, I thought. Oh fuck!” Tony rambled as Peter’s vision swam. He brushed the hair out of Peter’s face, the back of his hand grazing his forehead. “Oh my god, you’re burning up too. That at least explains the delirium. Okay, we’re gonna get you some help, just hang tight.” Peter tugged loosely at the collar around his neck. “S’okay, Mis’ser Stark. No SHIELD” He slurred. 

“Yeah, whatever you want, I promise, you just gotta tell me what the hell is going on okay? Oh fuck I’m so sorry” Tony moved to punch in the code to unlock the collar, but before he could even get started, they were interrupted by what sounded like the elevator dinging as it reached their floor, followed by the smooth slide of the doors.

The next thing they knew, there was an ear piercing _bang!_ Glass was shattering as a window was shot open, and a red _something_ rolled into the room amongst the debris and landing upright on one knee with two guns drawn. “Surprise! You have something of mine! Gimme.”

Peter turned his head at the familiar voice to see _Spider-Man_ in the shattered glass, a gun in one hand aimed at Tony. “Y’gotta be kiddin’ me” He groaned.

Outside the lab, the fire exit door slammed open, and half of the Avengers came barreling in to see Spider-Man threatening Tony and a bloody-intern-Peter with a gun. This was not good. At all. 

“Spider-Man, put the gun down and surrender peacefully!” Steve barked, shield in one hand, dressed in what looked like pajamas. Peter turned to Tony. Both of them knew very well that whoever was in the suit was most definitely not the real Spider-Man, but only Peter knew that it was definitely _Deadpool_. 

“Who is the hell-” 

“I tracked the phone here, but nope! Not here for you, Stark.” He pushed past the older man as he looked down at Peter, still on the floor. “And wow, those are definitely my clothes, which means you,” he loosely gestured the gun at Peter, “are definitely my guy.”

Ignoring the threatening shouts from the Avengers, he moved to pick Peter up, only to get shot in the leg by Bucky. “Don’t touch the kid. Step away and surrender yourself. We don’t want to hurt you”

“Ho-holy shit! Easy on the trigger finger there, Winter Soldier!” He laughed, picking Peter up bridal style, much to the loud protests of Tony and everyone else in the room.

“What are you doing?” Peter hissed at him, trying to keep his voice as quiet as he could. “Rescue mission, baby boy. You look gorgeous by the way.” 

“Oh my god, please don’t tell me that’s Deadpool.” Tony’s face fell flat at the realization.

“The one and only! Sorry, I forgot I was still wearing the suit. I was hoping it would spark some kind of reaction, maybe jog some memories from the cops I went to go see. Which I mean, I did get, if you count pissing your pants a reaction.” He shrugged, before finally turning to address the Avengers. “Hey there party people! Sorry to disappoint, but I’m totally not Spider-Man.” He pulled off the mask dramatically to reveal the Deadpool mask on underneath. “Just disgusting ol’ me.” 

“Wait, I’m confused, so Deadpool is Spider-Man?” Wanda lowered her hands, the red glow fading away softly. 

"Well, that explains the murders at least."

Sam shrugged, “I mean their suits are pretty similar, but I always thought they were like-”

“Don’t mean to interrupt your undoubtedly fascinating conversation there, but the kid needs a doctor. Like yesterday!” Tony shouted as the group fell silent. Peter gave a loose thumbs up from Deadpool’s arms before turning into the merc’s chest.

\--------------

The next time Peter opened his eyes, he was greeted by pristine white ceiling tiles and the steady beeping of a nearby machine, which only rose in speed as he sat up. He began to panic. He vaguely remembered getting into a taxi to take him into the compound, but everything that happened inside was a bit fuzzy. There was a fight? Maybe? He started working on the blood? How did it all end?

His first thought was that he had been captured, or perhaps Tony had turned him in after all, but a glance down at the IV’s in his arm and the blue gown wrapped around his frame told him otherwise. That, and the fact that Tony was slumped over in a nearby chair, snoring. Definitely a hospital of some kind. He groggily turned his head to the bedside table as the beeping finally slowed down to a normal pace. He was definitely feeling a lot better than he was before. The wound on his side didn’t really hurt all that much anymore, and he also didn’t feel like throwing up every five minutes so that was a plus. 

His notes, Deadpool’s old clothes he was wearing, and a bouquet of red and black roses, along with a balloon that seemed to have an odd mix of his and Deadpool’s logo on it lay neatly on the table beside him.

Wait.

He felt his bare face where his mask was obviously not, causing his pulse (and the beeping) to skyrocket again as he sat up abruptly. If his mask was off, then that meant that Deadpool… “Peter!” He turned his head at the sound of his name to find Tony had woken up as well. “Calm down, you’re okay. You’re safe.” 

“Mr. Stark? What’s happening? Where’s Deadpool?” He pulled the blanket up over his face in a poor attempt to hide. “Mr. Stark, my mask, it-” 

“It’s okay. You’re safe. Uh. Deadpool brought you here. His idea.” 

"Do the Avengers know?" He whispered.

"About your identity? No. I- we kept quiet about that part."

Peter shook his head “But what happened? I thought he was dressed up as me, and the Avengers were there, and-” 

“Calm down. He uh, knows. If that’s what you’re asking. He didn’t tell the avengers though, don’t worry. After that whole mess yesterday night got cleared up, he let us bring you upstairs to the medical wing. Dude clings to you like a puppy.” Tony frowned. “He’s outside. I told him he couldn’t come in until you were up. I can tell him to leave if you want?” He suggested.

“No, can I talk to him?” Peter asked carefully. “Alone please?” Based on the expression on Tony’s face, he already knew that the man hated the idea. “He’s dangerous.”

“He helped me. At the very least, I have to find out what he knows.” 

If he was waiting for Tony’s approval, he didn’t need it as Deadpool burst through the doors in full suit with the addition of the Hello Kitty backpack. “You’re awake! Finally! I’m so glad you’re up, it was like a woman waiting for her sailor to come back from the war. How are you feeling sweetheart?” The merc settled on the corner of his hospital bed, much to Tony’s annoyance. Peter gave him a pleading look, and his mentor finally caved. “Five minutes.” He grunted, leaving the room.

“Oh my fucking god, when you passed out yesterday, I legit thought you died for a solid minute. I only cried a little, I swear. I’m just glad you’re okay” Peter smiled at the mercs theatrics. “I’m glad I’m okay too. I don’t mean to cut this short, but did you get anything on the officers?” He leaned forward in anticipation.

“I got a name, but not much else. Dude swears up and down that he didn’t do anything with the bullets. He gets them from his superiors at the beginning of his shift or something. Said it’s a new thing they’re trying out in New York. I got back to the apartment to tell you all about it, but you were super gone, and your mask was in the closet, and you stole, like, all my guns too. So I thought that either you just robbed me, or you got captured. I tracked the burner I gave you all the way upstate, and I found your adorable ass and all my guns in one place, so score! Sorry for accidentally finding out your identity by the way. You’re super cute. My name’s Wade if that makes you feel any better.”

Peter nodded, trying to digest everything the merc just said. “Uh… thanks? And sorry for stealing your guns. I thought I might need them. For protection. Since… y’know.” He made the gesture of shooting webs, much to Deadpool’s amusement. “So we didn’t really get anything on the bullet that hit me then?” He asked, disappointment evident on his face. 

“Well, no. I got something, but you’re not gonna like it.”

“I don’t like not having powers.”

“Touche.” He took a deep breath. “I tracked down that superior, and he told me that the new bullets thing started a few weeks ago… Roughly around the time the murders started happening. He said they were some high tech new thing they were trying out. Coated in aglium. Courtesy of,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “Stark Industries.”

Before Peter even got a chance to react, the door to his room swung open, Tony running in. “You might want to turn on the news, boys.” He turned to face Peter directly. "I'm so sorry, kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated for the next upcoming chapter. Yes I'm bringing my boy Johnny into this f i gh t me
> 
> Ohboy okay. This one came out a lot longer than I thought, but! We're moving forward, Peter is feeling better, things are looking up. Well, not really. It's all downhill from here, lets be real.


	4. Chapter 4

“Freeze! NYPD. Put your hands up, drop your weapon, and turn around slowly!”

Peter gulped, setting the knife down next to the groaning man as red and blue lights danced across the alley walls around him. As he put his hands up, he could feel the weight of the pistol, heavy in the pocket of Wade’s jacket.

Oh, Wade. He was gonna be so upset Peter had gotten blood all over the jacket.

“I know this looks really bad but I _swear_ this isn’t what it looks like.” Peter turned around slowly to face the two officers pointing their tasers at his chest.

Rain was beating down harder on his already soaked hair causing it to fall over in front of his eyes. He spoke slowly and carefully, not wanting to set the cops off. “This- I didn’t do this. I know who did it though, if you let me go, I can still catch up to him before he gets too far.” 

“Very funny, kid. Cuff ‘im. The boss is gonna love this nutcase.” 

Peter waited until the cop got close enough, disarming him with a quick elbow to the lung. He pulled the officer into a chokehold, using him as a shield as he pulled the pistol from his jacket pocket. 

He levelled it to his victim’s temple, keeping eye contact with the panicked cop in front of him. “Don’t move, or I’ll shoot. Don’t reach for your belt, or I’ll shoot. Call for backup, ping your location, anything. I. Will. Do it. What I’m chasing is so much bigger than you two. Don’t think that your lives mean anything to me.”

The silence he got in response was chilling. Nothing but the sound of the rain hitting the streets, surrounded the three of them. “You’re going to let me go. You’re gonna help that man on the ground there. And you’re going to forget you saw me tonight. Do I make myself clear?”

He got a stiff nod from the cop in front of him, who had put his hands up in either surrender or an attempt to placate him. “Okay, okay just… let my partner go. No need to do anything you’ll regret now.” 

Peter nodded, shoving the gasping cop to the ground as he took off down the alleyway, puddles soaking his new Converse. He glanced down at the empty clip of the pistol before shoving it back into his pocket, hands shaking with adrenaline. 

Behind him, he could hear the sirens of the cruiser start up, and wheels screeching as the tires slid against wet pavement. 

He was so screwed.

\------------

“-has been rendered powerless after what seems to be an encounter with Spider-Man, witnesses say. No one knows what started the altercation or how the young hero lost his abilities. What we do know however, is that The Human Torch was fighting for his _life_ under intensive care and is now recovering back at home. Details are currently being kept under wraps, but when we know more, so will you. This is Diane with The Dai-” Peter shut the TV off, in disbelief. 

“Is he… is Johnny okay?” He whispered. 

“I don’t know, Pete. You want me to call up Richard and Sue to find out?” Peter shook his head. He didn’t know what this lookalike of his wanted, but if it was targeting Johnny, one of the very few people that he trusted with both of his identities… well, he didn’t even know where to start on the guilt train. Whoever was ‘impersonating’ him, for lack of a better term, seemed to know a lot about his personal life. Enough to know that Johnny had a soft spot for him and wouldn’t see the attack coming. No, he had to go see his friend in person. He had to make sure Johnny knew it wasn’t him. He would never… not to _him_.

Deadpool looked between Peter and Tony, the tension in the air so thick you could slide a butter knife through it. “I’m sorry, am I missing something? What’s the sitch with you and hothead? Are you guys bumpin’ uglies, or…” Tony started speaking again, effectively ignoring the merc as he carried on, “well, you at least want to check up on him, don’t you?” 

Peter nodded numbly. When he first came out to his mentor, his relationship with Johnny was something Tony was immensely supportive of. From organizing team ups with the Fantastic Four so the boys could spend more time together, to always lending Peter an ear whenever the blonde was being particularly irritating, Tony could not have been a more supportive father figure. Even when their relationship ended on mutual terms, Tony had let a heartbroken Peter Parker crash on his couch for days to cry about how dumb relationships were, and how dumb boys were, and how he’d never love again. The usual post-breakup blues. 

They of course, still cared for each other immensely. In fact, they were on amazing friends, Peter just didn’t think he could handle the stress of keeping both him and a boyfriend safe while they were in battle, especially with how reckless the Torch could be. Hearing what happened to him on the news was like a punch to the gut, knowing that even though they weren’t together he had gotten hurt because of him anyways. After what had happened to Gwen… MJ hardly even talks to him anymore. Hell, he didn’t think even Ned had ever forgiven him for it, try as he might. He knew that as long as he had his red and blues on, a relationship was never going to work. Everyone he loved got hurt. Whether or not they felt the same hardly mattered. It wasn’t fair for Johnny to be dragged into the mess that was his life, yet here they were anyway. He at the very least had to make sure he was okay. It was his fault after all.

“I gotta go see him myself.” He started to move, pulling the IV’s from his arm and throwing the blankets to the ground. “Also, I would like some real clothes please.” He tugged at the thin hospital gown, knowing full well that he wasn’t going _anywhere_ without something to cover his ass.

“I like to think my clothes are pretty real.” Wade held up the large, blood-stained plain t-shirt Peter had worn, “plus, seeing you in my clothes is just about the cutest thing ever. When I saw you yesterday, my heart just about exploded.” he swooned. “And I mean that literally. Like, buh-boom” He made an explosive gesture with his hands.

Peter felt heat rush to his face at the compliment, but pushed on, opting to ignore it. There was no way he was going to go see Johnny wearing… well, another man’s clothes. Especially ones that didn’t fit or make him look presentable at all. Contrary to popular belief, he _did_ care about how he looked, _especially_ in front of Johnny. “Uh, thanks, but I’m just gonna get something that actually fits me. Tony how fast do you think you can get me into something that makes me look half decent.” He moved towards the door, only to be stopped by a firm, but gentle pressure on his chest.

“Woah woah woah, Webs, pump the brakes.” Wade held him back with a hand. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? And I don’t mean the clothes. Never took you for such a diva. No, I mean going to see your…” He trailed off, seemingly unsure what label to put on the relationship, “Why do we care about Torchy again? I’m incredibly lost. All I care about is the fact that you aren’t at your one hundred percent. Definitely not in a position to be making house calls to Make-A-Wish kids.”

“Johnny’s… He’s one of my closest friends. If he’s being targeted, or if he’s being hurt because of me, then it’s my responsibility to make sure he’s okay. Especially if he lost his powers too. This could be a huge lead!” 

Tony cleared his throat, drawing the attention back towards himself. He had crossed his arms, a frown pulling his lips into an annoyed expression. “I hate to agree with Deadpool, but he’s right. You can’t exactly just show up at the Fantastic Four’s doorstep. You know that they’re still under obligation to find and capture you? I don’t know how seriously they take SHIELD’s orders, or even if they’ll follow through with it at all. I do know that they _did_ get the message. And if they go telling, well, I can’t lose you like that, kid.”

“But Johnny’s-”

“Going to be just fine, He’s a tough cookie, we both know this. He’ll live.”

——————

Despite the fact that Peter had agreed not to go see Johnny right away, Tony had some clothes sent up to the medical wing regardless. It made Peter feel a lot more at ease, especially with how ready he was to get out of there already. He was definitely feeling much better than before. Hell, the bullet wound from a few days prior didn’t even hurt anymore.

“Just a little while longer, Pete. It’s not that I don’t trust you or anything, but the last time you left, you literally became a fugitive, got shot, lost your powers, _and_ caught the worst fever I’ve ever seen. In that order. Don’t even get me started on the fact that you’re now friends with _Deadpool. How does that even happen?_ Please tell me that that happened while you were delirious and confused.”

“Well, that’s honestly exactly what happened. I don’t think I’d call us friends, um, allies is more like it.” Peter shrugged, much to Wade’s displeasure. “And as much as I’d love to stay, I can’t just hide here forever. It’s either I clear my name and expose my imposter, or they keep hurting people using my mug, and I stay on the run forever. Plus, I’ll be fine. it’s not like Peter Parker’s a fugitive or anything.” He gathered up Deadpool’s clothes, his suit, and the burner phone, stuffing them all into his new, plain, definitely-weapon-less backpack. “Besides, how suspicious would it be that plain ol’ intern-Peter is suddenly living in the compound after Spidey disappears?”

Tony huffed, crossing his arms as Peter offered an apologetic smile. He had planned on staying with Deadpool while they worked on the case together. It was temporary, but it put Tony’s mind at ease knowing Peter would have any sort of backup in the event that shit went south. 

Well, to say that would be a generous way of putting it.

It wasn’t that the idea of him living with Wade made Tony feel any amount better, no. Peter had to _really_ talk it up to his mentor. With the recent attack on Johnny, he honestly didn't know how safe his identity as Peter Parker would be. Hopefully neither Johnny or the Fantastic Four had ratted him out, but he wasn’t willing to roll the dice and find out. He didn’t want to risk heading back to his apartment to find assassins and spies hidden in every corner. 

At least, that’s what he told Tony. 

So he wanted to spend more time with the merc, sue him.

It was only after he had pointed out Wade’s inability to die while protecting him that Tony had even let them both leave the compound together. It was tough for him, and he definitely didn’t like it, but he begrudgingly gave his blessing for the team up knowing an unkillable bodyguard was quite possibly the safest option on the table for both the investigation and his identity.

Which was how Peter found himself sitting across the table from Deadpool in a crusty sushi restaurant, where the sticky tables and stickier menus made Peter question how his life had led up to this point.

“Why are we here again?” He set the menu down, raising an eyebrow at the merc in front of him excitedly circling several items with a dry erase marker. “Because who wants to work on an empty stomach? My treat, baby boy.

“Welcome back, Wade, good to see you.” the woman behind the counter smiled warmly at the two of them, seemingly unfazed by both the suit and the spread of weapons scattered across the table and booth seat. “Is this another to-go order?”

“Nope! We’re gonna hang out here for a bit today, hope that’s alright!” He called back with a grin. The woman simply smiled, filling two tall, clear glasses before dropping them off at their booth. “I’ll get your usual.” 

Deadpool nodded happily, rolling up his mask just enough to slip the straw underneath it and drain the glass. Peter frowned, feeling exposed as he watched the merc drink. He realized he had never really seen Wade with his mask fully off. The scarred skin underneath was definitely a bit of a surprise, but not a huge deal either. He was more focused on the mask, or rather, his own lack of. It made him feel naked while he was sat there in his civvies, his bare face shown off to the world as he hung out with Deadpool, who definitely didn’t have a secret identity based on how nonchalantly he tossed his name around. 

Maybe it was a fake name? 

Either way, he wasn’t sure if bringing it up in the restaurant in front of someone who obviously saw him often was a good idea. He stared down at the menu hard as the woman swapped out Wade’s empty glass for a full one.

“You know, I didn’t expect sushi from you, ‘Pool. I thought you’d be more of a Mexican food type of guy.” He took a slow sip from his glass, which hadn’t come with a straw, and found himself spitting the burning liquid out immediately, coughing into his hands. “I-is that _vodka?!_”

“It’s my favorite sushi stop in all of New York! And yes this is definitely vodka. Hope you’re legal!”

Peter made the motion of gagging, as the taste of the heavy alcohol lingered on his tongue. “Luckily for you I turned 21 a month ago.”

The merc let out a low whistle. “21 huh? You don’t look 21 to me. Especially not with that cute pout on your lips.”

Peter broke into a smile. “What? You trying to card me, big man?” Deadpool nodded, a grin slowly creeping over his expression as well, “Yeah, yeah I think I am. Let’s see some ID, shortstack.” 

Peter couldn’t help but giggle at the bit as he fumbled for his wallet. The lady came back with a cart full of sushi, setting them on the table as Peter fished through his pockets. Wade thanked her, handed her a huge wad of cash, and snapped a pair of chopsticks as Peter shoved his entire wallet in the merc’s face. 

Wade burst out laughing clutching the side of the table as it shook with his body. Peter sat back smugly, content in knowing that Wade had gotten the reference as he huffed out between laughs, “This… _snrk_ this is just a piece of paper that says ‘I can do what I want.’”

Peter shrugged, popping a salmon roll into his mouth with his fingers as the merc rode out his giggling fit. “You’re too fucking cute, baby boy.”

\---------------

He checked the clock for what felt like the hundredth time that night. 

2:34am.

The soft snores from the living room indicated that Wade was, in fact, asleep. Just like he had been for the past hour and a half.

Peter knew he should have left ages ago. The earlier he goes the earlier he’ll get back, but what if Wade woke up? What if he was met there by a team of agents ready to take him in? Or worse, what if he got there and Johnny didn’t want to see him at all? 

The soft sound of another snore from the living room pulled him from his panic, and yet another glance at the digital clock ground him to the present. 2:36am.

Now or never.

And he didn’t know how he’d be able to live with himself if it was never.

He took a deep breath, and climbed out of the oversized bed. The cold of the bedroom stung his bare body, and he found himself already missing the comfort of the heated blanket. He slipped the burner phone into his back pocket, and pulled Wade’s jacket over his shoulders. As he made his way to the bedroom window, his foot kicked something small and solid, which a quick glance revealed to be a miniature pistol, small enough to fit into his jacket pocket. 

It couldn’t hurt.

He emptied out the clip, knowing he could never actually shoot anyone and walk away with a clear conscience. No. Intimidation only.

Peter pulled the window up with one smooth motion, peering up at the rooftop above. He could easily pull himself up to it, and then simply take the stairs down from there. He shivered as a soft gust of wind made its way past him. It was about to be one hell of a walk.

\----------------

Surprisingly, Johnny’s window wasn’t locked. In fact, it was cracked open, almost invitingly. The fact that it was only on the third floor as well made it a breeze to climb as well.

Hanging off the railing of the fire escape, he debated whether or not just hopping in would be a good idea. What if it actually was a trap? Was Johnny waiting for someone else? Was he dating again? What if he didn’t want to see him, or worse, want anything to do with him? What if-

“I can see the top of your head, Pete. Quit bein’ such a creep and come in already.”

Peter’s face flushed at being caught. He paused momentarily to gather up what was left of his courage before throwing himself headfirst into Johnny’s room. “H-heya hothead, how’s it hanging?”

Johnny stood a few feet away, coolly leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and a playful pout on his lips. “Well, I feel like shit, if you really wanted to know.” 

Peter huffed, a sad smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “Oh gosh, Johnny I’m so sorry. I swear it wasn’t me, I- I heard you lost your powers, and you got real fucked up, and I just had to see if you were okay I’m just… I don’t know what I’m saying I’m sorry.” He wiped at the tears gracing the corners of his eyes.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. Reed fixed me up, I’m all good now. You know, except for my powers, but SHIELD says that should come back within the week. I’m fine. Really, look.” He walked towards Peter, his arms out, giving a little spin for flair as the moonlight bounced off his blonde hair, making it shine. 

And he did look fine. He still had a nasty bruise coating his left cheek where it looked like he’d been decked, but his clothes covered up everything else, and he wasn’t limping or having trouble walking at all. It brought a sense of comfort to Peter, which must’ve been obvious on his face, as he was immediately wrapped up in a tight hug.

Johnny’s scent was nostalgic, reminding Peter of simpler times. He breathed it in, wanting to hold onto it and pretend like he wasn’t a fugitive sneaking into his friend’s room window to make sure he hadn’t been murdered. “I’m so sorry, I don’t,” he took a shaky breath, “I don’t even know what I’m doing here, ” he mumbled into the older boy’s chest. “Hey, no biggie Little Red. I knew it wasn’t you. Dude had an ass flatter than-”

“Oh my god, really?” Peter groaned, earning a chuckle from the Torches mouth. “Yeah. Hey, as much as I miss your cute face, technically I’m supposed to uh ‘turn you in’ or something as soon as I see you. Cause I know who you are. None of us have told, don’t worry, but you can’t stay for long, Pete.” 

Peter nodded. It explained why the window was open. They were… baiting… him.

“Wait, they said ‘as _soon_ as you see me’? As in they knew I’d come?” He whispered, glancing at the bedroom door. “Yeah, those words exactly. They _really_ wanna know who you are, Red.”

He felt his heart drop, and then immediately speed up at the realization that he finally had some sort of a lead. He needed to get back to Wade’s apartment. Whoever was pinning the murders on him was trying to get his identity. And they probably worked within SHIELD if they were using Johnny to get to him. They were hurting someone who knew it, and who he was close to. And they knew he’d come. 

Which meant that this definitely was a trap. He had to leave.

“I’m just glad you’re okay. I’m really sorry about your powers.” He stuttered out, backing away towards the window. 

“Hey, you’ve got nothing to apologize for. Just do me a favor and find the guy who did this, yeah?” 

“Yeah I think you just gave me one hell of a lead. I gotta jet, but I just-” He heard the sound of footsteps down the hallway outside of the room. Both their eyes got wide, and they turned to face the bedroom door as they realized how loud they had been. Someone was - no - multiple people were coming. The footsteps were heavy, most likely armed. 

Johnny spun to face Peter again, silently gesturing him out the window with urgency. 

“Oh shit, go. _Go, Parker!_” He hissed, helping Peter out onto the window ledge.

“I’m going, I’m going- ouch! Text me, will you?” He swung to the left a bit, his feet catching the fire escape ladder as he climbed under it, dropping quietly onto the dirty pavement below.

The alley underneath Johnny’s window was quiet enough for him to hear voices coming from the room. He could barely make out a ‘well, did it work? Did he come?’ and a ‘No siree, like I said, we broke up ages ago. Why would he bother?’

Peter let out a sigh of relief at the fact that his friend wasn’t about to sell him out. The voice also just confirmed his theory that someone at SHIELD _was_ trying to get his identity. Now he just had to find the connection to the murders and attacks. As a few drops of rain hit the top of his head, he rubbed at his eyes, the exhaustion of not having slept at all finally hitting him. He was ready to head back to Wades, write down everything he just found out, and get a good twelve hours of unconsciousness in. 

Maybe if he was quick enough, he could get back to the apartment before the rain picked up. He could almost hear the soft pillows and heated blankets in Wade’s room calling him. He deserved a good night's rest, probably. 

His burner phone buzzed a few times

**Wade [3:41AM]**  
_Baby boy? cant sleep. u need anything? _  
like water?  
pancakes?  
30lbs of cokey? 

Peter smiled softly at the phone.

Just as he was about to respond that he would like him to go back to bed, he heard the familiar grunt of a body hitting brick, accompanied by a panicked “take whatever you want, just don’t hurt me!”

A mugging. He might not have his Spidey suit with him, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying to help. Looks like Wade’s pistol was going to come in handy after all.

He walked towards the source of the sound at the other end of the alley, where one man held stood threatening the other with a knife. “Please man, just let me go, w-what do you even want?!”

“Hey!” Peter stood a few yards away from the altercation, back straight as he tried to look as big and intimidating as possible, one hand on the gun in his pocket. “Leave him alone.” He took in the scene in front of him. The guy with the knife was incredibly well dressed, the suit tailored perfectly. He looked too clean to be doing a mugging, whilst the other man looked sufficiently scared shitless, dressed in casual work clothes, a briefcase abandoned in a building puddle of rain. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that the knifer definitely had a SHIELD patch embroidered onto the dress shirt pocket.

That was it. That was the connection he needed. SHIELD wanted his identity for god knows what reason and they were _killing_ for it. Why? Shit, why? He had to get back to Wade’s, _fuck!_

Knife guy’s eyes glistened in recognition as he silently stared Peter down. “Quite heroic of you, o’ civilian. I knew that flaming son of a bitch was lying.” Peter froze, his face paling as the agent turned back to address the man he had pinned up against the harsh brick of the alley. “Luckily for you, what I want just showed up. Unluckily for you, that doesn’t mean shit.” He growled, plunging the knife into the man's stomach as he cried out in pain.

Peter rushed forward to help the man as he crumpled to the ground, the knife still stuck in his gut. “Oh my god oh my god you’re gonna be okay, I’m gonna put some pressure on this but I gotta pull this out hang on.” Peter stuttered, pulling the knife out quickly as the agent walked past him, mumbling into a radio. “He took the bait. Alley underneath Torch’s window. _Now._”

Peter pushed, putting pressure on the stab wound. He looked up as the agent stalked into the darkness. Any moment now and he’d be surrounded for sure. 

“Wait- no, abort. We’ve got company. This may actually work out better in our favor.” Peter briefly paused, much to the mans protest below him. “Hey, no! Wait up, what are you talking about!” He called after the agent as he disappeared into a nearby door and into a building. 

If he hadn’t been in the middle of trying to save a man's life, he would have given chase for sure, but for the moment, he would have to settle with the overload of information he had just received from that interaction. 

He resumed putting pressure on the wound with one hand, the other inspecting the knife that had been used. Surely Wade would have a way of tracing the fingerprints. He’d figure it out later. The most important thing, immediately, would probably be the fact that the agent said that they had ‘company.’ whatever that meant, it was important enough for them to back off from capturing him then and there, because it was somehow… easier?

His head hurt from trying to process everything that just happened all at once. What could possibly be an easy way of getting his identity from a third party?

“Freeze! NYPD. Put your hands up, drop your weapon, and turn around slowly!”

_Ah, fuck. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I squeezed a mini sushi date in there fight me.
> 
> Ahhhhh!!!! Sorry this took so long, I've been busy with art and stuff, but it's out now!
> 
> Also just for clarification, the agent (I'm just gonna call him that for now) rather than just like, yoinking Peter from the street to find out his identity, plans to just let the police catch him at the scene and book 'im. Boom, instant identity. Since Peter's a hero, and therefore less likely to resist and fight the police.  
Obviously it doesn't work, since the easy way out isn't always the best way to go but! Regardless, Peter's on his way back to Wade's to digest and dissect all of his new info. Lets hope he gets back safe 👀
> 
> Also also just for clarification of the status of Peter's friendships, he's still friends with MJ and Ned, but after what happened to Gwen (because I'm sprinkling comic stuff in as well eg. Peter and Johnny's relationship) their friendship is strained and they aren't as close as they used to be.
> 
> \-------------------**EDIT: ** \-------------------  
Real shit, I probably won't be getting back to this for a long, long time. I've got another fic in the works, and I just don't feel as motivated to work on this one anymore. If anyone just wants to know how it's supposed to end, I'll summarize the rest of it down below, so spoiler warning I guess?  
fun fact: this was originally gonna be called "what the fridge" 
> 
> \------------------ SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE FIC ------------------
> 
> It's SHIELD's mutant research team and their shady practices, which was going to be led by some scientists that I was going to heavily hint at being Doc Ock and Lizard. Their goal was to create something to take away someones powers completely, and they were testing it out on unsuspecting heroes. Peter would eventually get his powers back and defeat them, but this is before they become known Spidey villains, so to the rest of the world and the rest of SHIELD, it just looks like Peter beat up some random SHIELD employees. His problems are over, and he saved himself and several other mutant/genetically altered hero from a serum being created that could strip away their powers completely, but as a consequence for attacking SHIELD (he has to fight his way into the facility and then fight his way out), he's forced to resign from the Avengers, and leave New York. But it's cool cause he and Wade move to San Francisco together where they meet one Eddie Brock. 
> 
> And then I was gonna end it there, with no sequel. The where they move isn't important, I just wanted to end with them together. The Eddie bit at the end was just gonna be a small easter egg/nod to myself because I wrote this one based off of another fic I started and never finished and never posted and _that_ one was the one originally called 'doubt besties' (yes after a line from The Judge by twenty one pilots) which had Peter accidentally getting the Venom Symbiote and unknowingly attacking people while he's unconscious. It's a whole mystery but in that one Peter actually is the one doing the killing. Anyways if you're still reading, thank you for getting this far, and I'm sorry if this never ever updates .  
the fact that you're here means a lot.


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